


How to Lose an Enemy in Ten Steps

by gluupor



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: AFTG Summer Exchange 2019, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - No Exy (All For The Game), Andrew Minyard: gay disaster, Bad Flirting, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff and Humor, M/M, More like Enemies to... still Enemies (but pretend), Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-19 07:02:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20205667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gluupor/pseuds/gluupor
Summary: Andrew Minyard’s foolproof ten step plan guaranteed to run your enemies out of town forever (results may vary).





	How to Lose an Enemy in Ten Steps

**Author's Note:**

> This is my summer exchange fic for @bluetheking. You gave me so many options and I chose: andreil, bee and andrew having a mother/son relationship, soft high school au where bee has adopted the twins and neil isn’t on the run. Also background Kevin and Andrew friendship, and the twins having a good relationship.
> 
> This is basically inspired by that tweet that says: When I was 7 I had a crush on a girl in my class & didnt know how to deal w it so I wrote her a letter that just said "get out of my school"
> 
> Thanks to Anna for reading it through when I hated it :)

There was something decidedly fishy about Nathaniel-call-me-Neil Hatford. Andrew had noticed him instantly on the first day of sophomore year, looking like a lost lamb. He’d mistaken him at first for another freshman who were gathered around in excited and nervous clumps. Neil—not that Andrew had known who he was yet—was standing alone in his oversized shirt and old jeans, his riot of reddish-brown curls appearing as if they were trying to escape his head.

Andrew had felt smugly superior, flanked by Aaron and Nicky and Kevin. _He_ wasn’t a stupid friendless freshman, new to high school. No, he was much better than that. Even though there was something in the boy’s face that caught Andrew’s attention—with his prominent blue eyes and long eyelashes and the smattering of freckles across his nose and noticeably sharp cheekbones—Andrew dismissed him. He wasn’t planning on paying attention to a freshman.

That had been his first mistake, not immediately recognizing the new kid’s insidious nature. In homeroom he’d discovered both his name and the fact that he wasn’t a freshman. He was something much worse: a mysterious stranger who didn’t seem keen on talking about himself. And it only got worse from there.

Andrew should have seen it coming; Kevin was rich and his mother was famous and he was easy prey for people who wanted to use him for their own gain. Andrew had spent years shooing people away from him when Kevin’s own personality wasn’t enough to scare them off. The new kid latched on to Kevin immediately—although he was cunning about it, making it seem as if Kevin was the one doing the latching. Andrew wasn’t fooled.

There was only one thing to do: find out Neil’s secrets and threaten to reveal them unless he left town forever. Or, at the very least, switched schools.

The first step was easy. He needed to let Neil know he was on to him, threaten him subtly so he’d leave Kevin alone. He was going to send him a bouquet of flowers.

“Hold up,” interrupted his adopted mother, Bee, from the stove where she was cooking dinner as Andrew chopped vegetables and told her about how terrible the new boy was. “Flowers? You’re sending him flowers?”

Andrew heaved a put-upon sigh. “I want him to know I’m onto him.”

“With flowers?”

“Ugh, using flower language, _obviously_.”

“Uh huh,” said Bee. “Say, this new boy you want to scare off—”

“Neil,” supplied Andrew.

“Neil. He wouldn’t happen to be the one who won the 1500 metre race at last weekend’s track meet, would he?”

Andrew regarded her suspiciously. “How do you know that?” He was still annoyed that Bee had made him and Aaron attend in order to cheer on Nicky who competed in the triple jump. Especially since now Kevin thought that Andrew was beginning to show interest in sports and tried to talk him into joining the track team. Andrew briefly considered it once he saw Neil racing—joining the track team would give him an opportunity to keep an eye on him.

“I noticed that you were watching him.”

“He’s a threat.”

“I noticed that you were watching his legs, mostly. Those track shorts sure are short, aren’t they?”

Andrew flushed. “Gross, Mom, you’re too old for him.”

Bee pointed at him threateningly. “Watch who you’re calling old, or you’ll be on dish duty until college.”

“I didn’t say you were _old_, just comparatively old,” Andrew clarified.

“I wasn’t suggesting that _I_ date him,” teased Bee.

“No one’s going to date him. I’m running him out of town.”

“Wouldn't it be easier to send him a note that reads _get out of my school_?”

“That’s not subtle.”

“Oh, I see. You're getting him a _subtle_ bouquet of flowers.”

“Yes,” said Andrew impatiently. “That's step one. I have a sure-fire plan to get rid of him. Mark my words: Neil is as good as gone.”

**Step 1: Declaration of intent**

Andrew stepped into the flower shop and considered turning tail and leaving. One of his classmates—another one of Kevin’s jock friends, Mike or Matt or Miles or something—was wearing a hideous lime green apron and manning the counter. Instead, Andrew steeled himself and approached. If he didn’t threaten Neil, someone else might beat him to it.

“Hey, man,” said—Andrew surreptitiously checked his name tag—Matt. “Gettin’ some flowers?” He winked suggestively.

Andrew let his unimpressed gaze travel from Matt to the name of the store printed on his apron—Happy Petals—and back. “Do you sell anything else?”

“Uhhh… there’s some non-flowering plants, as well,” said Matt. “And we have a selection of greeting cards and balloons?”

“Balloons are a waste of helium, which is a non-renewable resource.”

“Uh huh,” said Matt, looking lost. “You want flowers, or what?”

“I would like a bouquet that says _go away and never come back_.”

“Riiiiight…” said Matt slowly.

“Also, _I hate you_.”

Matt’s face flashed with hurt. “What did I do?”

“That’s part of the message.”

“Uhhh… well you can write whatever you like on the tag?”

“No, I want the flowers themselves to convey the message. In flower language.”

“To be honest, dude, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Andrew sighed, having more or less expected this response. He pulled out his phone and opened his notes app where he’d taken detailed notes on flower language from the internet. “Do you have any monkshood?” he asked. “Or wolfsbane?” He was grateful for the seventeen times he’d read through the Harry Potter series for his knowledge that they were the same thing.

Matt stared at him, slack jawed. Andrew gestured sharply at his computer, where they must have an inventory list.

Matt took the hint and started typing. “No, it’s not in season.”

“I’m not surprised. Begonias will have to do. They mean beware. Add white roses for innocence and secrecy and pair them with yellow striped carnations to indicate disappointment and rejection.”

“Would white carnations work?”

“No!” snapped Andrew. “That would change the meaning. Either yellow striped or solid yellow carnations.” He consulted his notes further. “Then, let’s see… snapdragons for deception along with white chrysanthemums for truth. And do you have cyclamen?”

“I’ve never heard of it, but apparently yes we do.”

“It means goodbye, add it. And finally orange lilies for hatred.”

“And that means go away and never come back?”

“It's a warning. It means I see through his false innocence and I know he's hiding something. I'm going to find out the truth so he has to leave forever. And I hate him.”

“I’m not sure these flowers together will make a nice bouquet,” said Matt doubtfully, filling out an order form.

“I don’t care,” said Andrew. “As long as my message will be received.”

Matt was still dubious. “I mean… assuming whoever you’re giving them to understands flower language.”

Andrew gave him a withering look. “Only fools don’t.”

The next day at school Andrew cornered Neil at his locker and shoved his declaration of war into his unresisting arms.

“Um,” said Neil, looking down at the flowers. “Thanks?”

Andrew snorted at his foolishness and spun on his heel to leave. He got about halfway down the hall before turning back. “There’s a packet of plant food that you should add to the water in the vase.”

“Vase?” repeated Neil, obviously still taken aback that Andrew had so cleverly discerned his duplicity.

“The vase where you’ll keep them,” said Andrew. “Make sure to snip off the tips of their stems to help them with water and nutrient uptake.”

“Okay,” said Neil sounding uncertain, still staring at the flowers.

Andrew nodded once. That taken care of, it was time for step two.

**Step 2: Surveillance**

“Today, Neil mentioned that his parents are divorced and he lives with his mother,” said Andrew, again helping Bee with dinner.

“You finally spoke to him?” she asked sounding interested, throwing pasta into boiling water. It was Andrew’s week to help make dinner and he’d been passing along all his careful observations of Neil. He didn’t usually have a lot to say because he hadn’t gotten close enough to learn anything except Neil’s class schedule, so he mostly told her about all the things he hated about Neil that made him want to punch him, like when he smiled and laughed with Kevin at their track practices. It was the most disingenuous thing Andrew had ever witnessed. He’d known Kevin for years. He was perfectly aware that Kevin wasn’t funny.

“No, he told Matt while I was pretending to tie my shoe.”

Bee turned and gave him a shrewd look. “It sounds an awful lot like you’re stalking the poor boy.”

“I’m not stalking him,” protested Andrew. “I’m simply watching everything he does and everyone he speaks to and everywhere he goes.”

“Uh huh,” said Bee. “You know, there are easier ways to handle having a crush—”

Andrew squawked indignantly. “I do not have a _crush_,” he said quellingly.

“It’s perfectly alright if you do,” said Bee gently.

“I _don’t_,” protested Andrew. “I want him to leave forever.”

“But then who would you stalk—sorry, watch obsessively?”

“It’s _observation_. I’m good at observation. Now I know that he’s friendly with a group of juniors but that he has no friends in our grade so he eats alone. And that he lives with his mother, can speak German, is _definitely_ hiding something, and his hair smells like strawberries. That’s suspicious, isn’t it?”

“He probably uses his mother’s shampoo,” said Bee distractedly as the pasta almost boiled over. “Wait, how do you know what his hair smells like?”

Andrew paused. Truthfully, it was because he and Neil sat beside each other in homeroom (through no fault of Andrew’s; seating was assigned based on height instead of alphabetically like in most classes) and Neil had leaned close enough the other day when he’d dropped his pencil on the floor that Andrew had accidentally caught a whiff of his fruity-smelling hair. “Normal reasons. What?” he asked as she shot him a look. “It’s normal to know what some of your classmates smell like.”

Bee briefly looked to the ceiling for guidance. “You know,” she said slowly, “your interrogation will be more likely to succeed if he doesn’t feel attacked. Maybe play nice and get to know him?”

Andrew hummed thoughtfully. “You mean like a good cop/bad cop situation? Lull him into a false sense of security?”

“...Sure,” said Bee indulgently, fishing a noodle out of the pot to test whether it was cooked. “Tell the others dinner’s almost ready, would you?”

Andrew swiveled minutely toward the kitchen door. “DINNER!” he shouted at top volume.

Bee winced as she dumped the pasta into a strainer. “I meant that you should go to them, not yell into the void.”

Andrew shrugged. He already could hear the telltale thumping that spoke of hungry teenage boys rushing to eat. “It works.”

Nicky and Aaron stampeded into the kitchen, rushing to set the table. Their chores were assigned weekly by chore wheel: one of them had to help Bee cook and the other two were responsible for setting the table and cleaning up.

Chaos reigned for several minutes until the four of them were seated at the table with generous helpings of pasta (and salad because Bee insisted on them eating _vegetables_—even though there were already vegetables in the pasta) in front of them.

“Settle a disagreement for us,” said Bee. “Do you know what your classmates smell like?”

Andrew shot her a betrayed glance, but neither Nicky nor Aaron seemed to find the question strange.

“Uh, yeah,” said Nicky, his tone indicating that Bee was asking a stupid question. “The new freshmen don’t seem to have discovered deodorant yet and the majority of guys in my grade apparently swim to school through Axe Body Spray.”

“Okay,” said Bee, suppressing a smile, “but do you know what anyone’s hair smells like?”

“There’s a girl in my chemistry class whose hair smells like the fancy Bath & Body Works candles you like to buy,” said Aaron, his expression far away. “Her hair is so shiny and bouncy,” he sighed.

Bee gave Andrew a look. “It sounds like you have a crush on this girl,” she said teasingly.

“No way, I hate her,” said Aaron, sitting up straight. “She gets better marks than I do! I want her to leave forever.”

Andrew returned Bee’s look smugly.

“The captain of the football team’s hair smells like Axe Body Spray,” added Nicky dreamily. “He’s a giant douche but his muscles are _fantastic_.”

**Step 3: Lure him into a false sense of security**

From Andrew’s—_ahem_—observations, he knew the best time to catch Neil alone was at lunchtime. Neil mainly seemed to be friends with other members of the track team, most of them juniors and seniors, meaning that their lunch hour was at a different time than that of the freshmen and sophomores. Andrew had noticed that Neil generally sat alone and that he bought his lunch from the cafeteria.

Good cop/bad cop definitely worked better with two people; however, Andrew was lucky in that he could easily disguise himself as someone else. When he’d come out of his room this morning dressed identically to Aaron all that happened was that Aaron sighed in annoyance and demanded to know what classes he wanted to swap. Andrew told him to make himself scarce at lunch, which wasn’t a problem. The academic decathlon team had meetings during lunch hour and Aaron was a big enough nerd to be on the team.

Andrew plopped down on the bench across from Neil, dropping his bagged lunch on the table. He glanced longingly at Neil’s curly fries, but Bee was adamant that balanced meals and a good night’s sleep were the first line of defense against mental illness.

Neil paused in his chewing to stare up at Andrew. “Andrew,” he said warily.

“I’m Aaron,” said Andrew, unearthing a whole-wheat turkey sandwich and a container of carrot and celery sticks from his lunch bag. He was relieved to note that Bee had at least packed cookies for dessert.

Neil squinted suspiciously. “No, you’re not.”

“We’re identical; how can you be sure?”

“You may be twins, but you’re not the same,” scoffed Neil. “You’re the one in homeroom and English with me and he’s in my math class. Although, I did notice that you were in math class in his place two weeks ago. How no one else noticed is beyond me.”

Andrew hadn’t expected that Neil had been doing his own reconnaissance. Was Neil trying to figure him out to try to scare _him_ out of town? Ha, good luck. He wasn’t sure he liked it, although his stomach fluttered when Neil revealed he could tell him and Aaron apart. Probably from hunger.

Andrew had no response to Neil’s declaration, nor could he think of anything else to talk about. He took a bite of his sandwich.

He didn’t say anything. Neil didn’t say anything. He was beginning to see a flaw in his plan.

Neil didn’t question Andrew’s presence, seemingly fine with sitting in silence with a near-stranger like a weirdo. Eventually, Andrew took out a paperback and started reading while Neil hastily scribbled out his math homework before class. The two of them spent the remainder of lunch without another word passing between them.

**Step 3.5: Learn small talk**

Andrew stood behind Nicky’s locker and waited for him to slam it. When he did, he was gifted with Nicky visibly flinching and shrieking.

“Jesus, Andrew! You’re like one of those creepy garden gnomes, appearing from nowhere to glare malevolently,” complained Nicky once he’d calmed down.

“How do you small talk?” demanded Andrew.

“Well, not like that,” said Nicky. He surveyed Andrew for a few moments before shrugging. “It’s not that hard. Mention the weather, ask about their hobbies, maybe tell an anecdote about your awesome cousin?”

Andrew pulled out his phone and opened his notes app, quickly typing Nicky’s suggestions. “What else?”

“Is it someone at school? You could ask about their schedule?”

“I already know his schedule. I stole it from the admin office.”

“Ooookay,” said Nicky. “Ask about his family?”

“Family, question mark,” muttered Andrew.

“And you could ask about his classes? Do you share any? Because you could talk about homework or something?”

“Classes, comma, homework.”

“And you can’t just blurt out these questions one after another,” warned Nicky. “You have to give him time to answer and offer up some information about you.”

Andrew wrinkled his nose. “I’m trying to limit how much information he knows about me.”

“Yeah, that’s not suspicious at all,” said Nicky. “What brought this on, anyway? Does it have anything to do with why Bee was asking us if we know what people smell like?”

Andrew decided that he had enough small talk subjects for at least one lunch hour, and turned on his heel to leave.

“That’s not how you properly end a friendly conversation!” Nicky shouted after him.

**Step 3, take two: Pretend to care about his stupid life**

“There is weather,” said Andrew, surreptitiously glancing at the list of topics on his phone.

Neil stared at him.

“Outside,” said Andrew. His throat felt as if there was something large and slimy in it. “For instance, right now it is—” he glanced out the cafeteria window “—sunny.”

“Yes,” said Neil.

When it didn’t seem like he was going to say anything more, Andrew soldiered on. “I don’t like the sun, it gives me freckles. I also don’t like the rain. Or cold. Or heat. Or snow.”

“So you enjoy when there is no weather at all?” asked Neil sardonically. “I kinda like it when it’s grey and drizzly.”

That was something else for Andrew to add to his knowledge about Neil (that he had bad taste in weather).

“Do you have hobbies,” he said next, flatly.

“Well, I like to run,” said Neil thoughtfully.

Clearly Neil was the worst—who liked rain and running? Andrew glanced down at his list of conversation topics and bit his lip. That was two down and it had only been a minute. This was shaping up to be harder than he’d expected.

“Uh, also,” said Neil sheepishly, self-consciously rubbing the back of his neck, “I collect Pokemon trading cards?”

“Those still exist?” asked Andrew, curious. He could vaguely recall that one of the kids in his foster home had a pack of Pokemon cards when Andrew was about five. He remembered being jealous because he was forbidden from touching them since he was too young.

“Yeah,” said Neil, pulling a pack of cards out of his backpack. “Do you want to play?”

“Yes,” replied Andrew, relieved. This would waste some time. “Teach me how.” This was much easier than small talk.

**Step 4a: Gain access to his home**

Andrew and Neil began sitting together every day at lunch, sometimes playing cards and sometimes just chatting. Andrew found that the small talk had gotten easier ever since Neil started participating properly. It was likely that Neil was only doing so to gather information on Andrew, so he was careful about how much he gave away.

Lunch period was starting to pass by a lot faster than it ever had before, although Neil now greeted him with a smile when he showed up at their lunch table, which caused anger to fester in his chest and made him want to shove Neil’s face in a toilet so he’d never have to see it again.

To enact the next stage of his plan, Andrew needed to gain access to Neil house. This was proving difficult, as he had no idea where Neil lived. And even if he did, he didn’t have any breaking and entering skills. And he could only imagine the look of disappointment on Bee’s face if he was caught. So he had to secure an invitation. The problem was, he wasn’t entirely sure how to go about getting one. Luckily, an opportunity arose a little over a week later.

In English class, their teacher announced a project that had to be completed in pairs. Andrew could see that the girl sitting beside Neil had her eye on him, so he made sure to get there first. He sat in the row behind Neil and diagonally to the left. Before the girl beside Neil could say anything, Andrew reached forward to grab the hood of his sweatshirt to yank it sharply.

Neil made a strangled noise and turned to look at him, his brow creased in confusion. “I have a sneaking suspicion you want my attention,” he said dryly, rubbing his throat.

“We’re working together,” declared Andrew.

Neil’s lips quirked in a half-smile, which Andrew wanted to wipe off his face. With sandpaper. “If you say so.”

“We should get together to work on it after school. We can’t go to my house and I’m allergic to the library. How about your place?” Andrew was impressed with how smooth and natural that sounded.

Neil’s expression turned vaguely panicked. “What do you mean you’re allergic to the library?”

“The old dragon that guards the books doesn’t like me.”

“The librarian? Does it have anything to do with you calling her a dragon?”

“She once caught me setting a book on fire.”

“Vandal,” said Neil, sounding scandalised. “I wasn’t aware you had medieval book burnings in this town. How dare you hurt a defenseless book?”

“It was racist. And sexist. And homophobic. Our library’s better off without it. But, as a side-effect, I am now banned from getting near other books.”

“And you’re sure we can’t go to your place?”

Andrew cast about for a reason they couldn’t. Some of the things he’d learned about Neil during lunch actually came in handy. It was smart of Bee to suggest that Andrew got to know him a little. “Well, Aaron and Nicky will be there. Nicky will definitely bother you to socialize with him. And my mom will want to meet you.”

“Fine,” said Neil, resigned. “We can go to my place. Tomorrow after school? I have to check with my mom, first.”

“Give me your number,” said Andrew. Having Neil’s number would be useful if he had to lure him somewhere to expose all his secrets. Or he could add him to Find My Friends so he could keep track of his movements. It’s too bad there wasn’t a Find My Enemies app. If he added him on Find My Friends, Neil might get the wrong idea. Although Neil thinking they were friends could help lure him into a false sense of security. Smart. Everything was going well.

**Step 4b: Search personal belongings**

Neil texted Andrew that evening to tell him that his mother was fine with him coming over for a school project and did he want to stay for dinner?

Andrew tapped his lip thoughtfully. _That depends_, he texted back. _What are you having?_

_Whatever I make_, responded Neil.

_You can cook?_ Eating in enemy territory was a risk. What if Neil took the opportunity to poison him? Although if Andrew was present he could supervise.

_I was thinking mac n cheese_, wrote Neil, sidestepping Andrew’s question entirely.

_Like KD?_ Andrew could go for some KD. He could go for some right now, but he knew that Bee would give him a Look if she caught him making it. They were only allowed to eat fruit as an evening snack.

_Nah, I have a baked mac n cheese recipe that doesn’t take too long to make_, replied Neil. _Is that good enough, your majesty?_

Andrew replied that in that case, yes, he’d stay for dinner. It would probably involve having to speak with Neil’s mother, but he could maybe learn something about her son’s shadiness from speaking with her.

The next day after school, he walked home with Neil. Neil lived not far from school, in an apartment complex that was much nicer than Andrew was expecting based on Neil’s overall aesthetic. He’d thought Neil would live in transient low-to-mid-range income housing, like one of those complexes that looked like a motel: a couple of stories of apartments that all faced an inner courtyard that had a pool where a dead body had maybe once been found. Neil’s building definitely had a pool, but it was exclusive and inside. The lobby had marble floors and there was even a security guard on duty who nodded pleasantly at Neil when they entered.

Neil led Andrew to the elevator and went up to the tenth floor. His apartment was large and airy and bright and completely clinical. It looked like a showroom, not as if actual people lived in it.

Neil kicked off his shoes and tossed his backpack onto the couch. It clashed horribly with the immaculate white leather and carefully placed throw pillows. “I’ll just get dinner started and then we can get to work,” he said, heading to the large, open concept kitchen that was filled with shiny stainless steel appliances. Andrew watched in interest as Neil pulled out several pots, dry pasta, cheese, milk, butter, and flour along with green onions and sun dried tomatoes and started mixing and cutting and shredding. He knew he should take the opportunity to snoop while Neil was distracted but instead found himself drifting closer to observe Neil cooking. He had to make sure there wasn’t any poison.

“Did your mother teach you to cook?” he asked, watching Neil slowly pour the milk into the pot with the butter-and-flour mixture he’d made, whisking constantly.

Neil snorted inelegantly. “No,” he said. “My mother’s idea of cooking is using the Uber Eats app. My uncle taught me the basics when I was about eight cause relying on my mom to make dinner would end with us eating either take out or cold cereal. Then, when I got bored of the three things he taught me to cook I watched cooking videos on YouTube and found new recipes online.” He shrugged sheepishly, adding cheese to the thickened milk. “The last couple places we lived we only stayed for a few months. It was pointless to make friends for such a short period so I had a lot of time on my hands.”

Andrew was grateful for the opening. “No one for you to latch onto, like Kevin?” he asked. Maybe he could figure out Neil’s motives for befriending Kevin.

Neil appeared slightly taken aback, like he wasn’t expecting Andrew to so bluntly question him. “Oh, yeah, I guess,” he said. “He’s been very welcoming, although I suspect that’s more due to my lap times than actually liking me.” He mixed the cooked pasta into the cheese sauce, threw in some extra cubes of cheese as well as the sun dried tomatoes and green onions and dumped the mixture into a baking dish. Sprinkling with yet more cheese (Andrew highly approved of how much cheese had gone into the dish), he put the concoction into the oven and set a timer. Turning, he cleared his throat. “That’ll be forty minutes. Do you want something to drink?”

Andrew narrowed his eyes at the obvious deflection but didn’t press him any further in case he shut down entirely. “What do you have?”

Neil opened the fridge and peered inside. “There’s water—both regular and Perrier—grapefruit juice, milk, or almond milk.”

“Uh,” said Andrew, wrinkling his nose.

“I know, nothing sweet enough for you,” said Neil apologetically.

“Regular water, I guess,” said Andrew dubiously. He could make the grapefruit juice palatable by adding sugar but that seemed like too much work.

Neil tossed him a bottle of water from the fridge and then gestured back the way they’d come. He grabbed his backpack off the couch and led Andrew down the short hallway, opening the first door they came to.

Neil’s bedroom appeared much more lived in than the rest of the apartment, although it was still only sparsely decorated. There weren’t any posters on the walls or a display shelf of trophies and ribbons. Instead, there was a single bed, a dresser, and a spare desk. And an explosion of laundry. All the drawers in the dresser were half open, spilling clothes out onto the floor. The closet was open but filled with boxes with labels in messy handwriting that read things like _bedroom_ and _sheets_ and _neil’s stuff_. The desk had a laptop on it, as well as several loose sheets of paper covered in doodles, a pile of pens, and a couple paperbacks.

Andrew glanced around surreptitiously but he couldn’t figure out where Neil might hide something he didn’t want found, unless it was under a pile of clothes.

Neil plopped down on his bed, leaving the desk chair for Andrew. “Okay,” he said, pulling out a crumpled sheet from his bag. He smoothed it out and squinted at it. “We need to choose a book from this list and prepare a report about the major themes in it,” he read, before looking up at Andrew. “Any ideas?”

“Yes,” said Andrew, and rattled off three titles from the list that he’d already read. Neil agreed with his second suggestion, having read it at his last school, and then they began planning and dividing up the work for the report.

Neil took barely-legible notes and contributed more than Andrew had suspected. He’d pegged him as someone who was lazy about schoolwork but he seemed perfectly willing to do his half of the work.

About half an hour after they started working, Andrew could hear the key in the lock of the apartment, followed by the telltale clicking of high-heeled shoes.

“Abram, where are you?” called a woman’s voice. The tone was brusque and the speaker had a crisp, upper crust British accent.

“In here!” Neil shouted back. Andrew’s attention snapped to Neil at the strange name. “My middle name,” he explained in an undertone. “She doesn’t like my actual name.”

A woman (who Andrew assumed to be Neil’s mother based solely on the fact that Neil didn’t seem surprised to see her) stopped in the doorframe, her grey-blue eyes taking in the scene and narrowing when they came to rest on Andrew. Andrew wasn’t sure if Neil was genetically related to his mother; there certainly wasn’t any familial resemblance (although Andrew knew how little that meant. It wasn’t like he and Nicky shared a lot of physical similarities).

She was a short woman—probably even shorter than Andrew—but she compensated with four-inch heels. She was wearing a grey high-waisted pencil shirt and a purple blouse, her honey blonde hair was pulled back into a severe knot, and her makeup was flawless. She matched the apartment perfectly; Andrew had no idea how such a put together woman let her son go out into public looking the way Neil usually did.

“I told you that Andrew was coming over to do a project,” said Neil, sounding almost like he was asking a question when his mother’s gaze didn’t falter.

“Yes,” she replied, although Andrew couldn’t tell if she was agreeing or simply acknowledging Neil’s statement.

“Dinner will be ready in about ten minutes,” said Neil, turning back to his work. His mother nodded once and left.

Andrew waited until he heard a door shut behind her farther in the apartment before he looked up at Neil. “I don’t think she likes me.”

Neil sighed and dropped his pen. “No, that’s just how she is,” he said. “She works in risk management—honestly, I have no idea what she actually does but as far as I can tell she spends all her time thinking up worst case scenarios. She’s probably convinced that you’re only pretending to be my friend to spy on me or something.”

Andrew had taken a sip of water while Neil was speaking and he proceeded to choke on it. Was Neil onto him? Was he slyly letting Andrew know that he knew his plans?

“So you move around a lot?” he asked, changing the subject.

“Yeah,” said Neil, sounding dejected. “She works for a lot of different companies on short term contracts. Apparently her contract is for three years this time because she thinks I’ll benefit from a more stable education before college, but who knows how long it’ll actually last. She doesn’t like staying in one place for long.” He climbed off of his bed and stretched. “Come on, I’ve got to make salad.”

Andrew should have been rejoicing that Neil thought he’d be gone before long, but somehow he wasn’t. It was probably because it was too easy. He wanted to be the one who drove Neil out of town.

Neil dumped a fancy mixture of lettuce into a large bowl and threw in handfuls of dried cranberries, raisins, and various nuts and seeds, before mixing olive oil, balsamic vinegar, and maple syrup in a mason jar and drizzling it over top. He tossed it quickly and shoved it onto the large, dark wood dining room table. Andrew estimated that twelve people could easily sit at it and wondered whether Neil’s mother entertained a lot.

Neil brought dishes and the mac and cheese (which looked and smelled delicious) to the table. Andrew was surprised that Neil started eating before his mother showed up, but followed suit. They spoke more about their project and their conversation dovetailed into how much they disliked their English teacher.

Neil’s mother eventually made an appearance. She had changed her clothing; Andrew expected that she would dress down for an evening at home, but she was now in fitted, expensive pants and a different blouse and was still wearing high heels. She sat wordlessly at the table, her eyes on her phone, and served herself a large portion of salad. She didn’t say anything more and Neil acted as if she hadn’t appeared, continuing his discussion with Andrew without missing a beat.

Andrew had second helpings (and then thirds—sue him, the mac and cheese was _really_ good). Neil also had multiple helpings; despite his relative skinniness he seemed to have the appetite of a teenage boy. Bee had lamented many times that her three teenagers were going to eat her out of house and home.

The first time she’d said it Andrew had been worried that she might get rid of him, sending him back into the foster system, and had resolved to eat less. Bee had noticed before long and had reassured him that he was stuck with her.

He’d been the first of them she took in when he was eleven and reeling from too many bad foster homes. It had taken him a while before he trusted that he was going to be able to keep her. Aaron had joined him at thirteen, after Bee had discovered that they were twins that had been separated at birth when Aaron entered the foster system after his mother’s death. Nicky had come the previous year, when he’d attempted to track down his aunt after his parents had thrown him out for his sexuality. Sometimes Andrew still couldn’t believe that he had a stable home and a close knit family, even after five years.

After eating, Neil and Andrew retreated back to Neil’s room while Neil’s mother cleaned up (which was good, Andrew was beginning to think that she treated Neil like a slave or something). They hashed out their assignment and divided the work. Andrew got the chance to snoop around a little when Neil went to the washroom but as far as he could tell, Neil wasn’t actually hiding anything incriminating. He opened several of his binders and notebooks in case they hid evidence—of what, he wasn’t sure. Maybe he’d find research on Kevin or stalker photos or something that proved that his designs on him were nefarious—but they all held old schoolwork.

Although he hadn’t achieved what he’d set out to do, Andrew figured that overall the day had been a success. Their English project was in order and the food was delicious. Maybe he’d get Neil to send him the recipe and convince Bee to make it.

**Step 5: Ice cream**

Bee was waiting for him when Neil’s mother dropped him off at home. She drove an incredibly fancy and expensive car that made Andrew almost drool in appreciation and envy. He had his learner’s permit but his mother drove a minivan. It was beige. He always wore sunglasses and pulled a hat down low on his head when he was driving it so that no one would see him in it. He wondered if his false friendship with Neil would extend to letting him drive his mother’s Maserati.

“So?” asked Bee, when Andrew came in. He could hear the television was on in the family room, but she was sitting in the front room, curled up in her sleep pants with a book. “How was snooping?”

“I couldn’t find where he’s hiding his secrets,” admitted Andrew.

“Maybe because he’s not hiding anything?”

“That can’t be it,” said Andrew. “Oh, well. I’ll figure it out eventually.”

“What’s the next step?”

“Ice cream,” said Andrew decisively.

Bee raised an eyebrow. “Ice cream?”

“Every plan needs an ice cream step in the middle of it.”

“Of course.”

“Besides, a person’s ice cream order can tell you a lot about them.”

“Can it? What does yours say?”

“Well, my usual order of triple chocolate caramel fudge—”

“You’re going to get diabetes,” said Bee, shaking her head.

“—indicates that I’m deep and intelligent.”

“Uh huh.”

“And Kevin’s regular order of vanilla frozen yogurt indicates he’s boring and has bad taste. See?”

“Ah, yes, it’s all making sense now. But what if he orders fruit sorbet? All that tells you is that he’s lactose intolerant.”

“If he’s lactose intolerant than the mac and cheese at dinner tonight was a _bad_ idea.”

Bee smiled. “So you’re going to take Neil to Sweetie’s?”

“I’ll trick him into going some day after school.”

“Are you sure you have to trick him?” asked Bee, her tone amused. “Wouldn’t asking him to go with you be easier?”

“I can’t have him thinking that I actually want him around,” argued Andrew.

“God forbid he thinks you actually like him.”

“I hate him.”

“Clearly,” said Bee dryly.

**Step 6: More outings to discover secrets**

Aaron reached over to take the remote from Andrew’s hand. Andrew reacted swiftly, twisting away and holding it out so Aaron couldn’t reach it while slapping Aaron’s grasping fingers. Aaron slapped back, which devolved into a slap fight.

“Are you two fighting?” Bee called from the next room.

“No, mom,” Andrew and Aaron chorused back together, immediately stopping their fight.

“Andrew, give it here,” whined Aaron.

“It’s my turn to decide what we watch,” argued Andrew, idly flipping channels before settling on a Friends rerun, more to annoy Aaron than because he had any interest in watching it.

“But I wanna see the baseball game.”

“Baseball is stupid,” said Andrew decisively. “Neil agrees with me.”

Aaron sat back on the couch grumpily and petulantly crossed his arms. “Like I care what that loser thinks.”

Andrew shrugged, irritated by Aaron’s insult. Neil was _his_ enemy and he’d never liked it when Aaron copied him.

Aaron watched him silently for a couple moments before speaking again, “Why are you spending so much time with him anyway?”

“Research,” replied Andrew.

After successfully tricking Neil into getting ice cream with him—he ended up getting strawberry frozen yogurt, which was a step above Kevin’s order but not by much—Andrew had realized that repeated outings might make Neil spill his secrets. While they’d been eating ice cream Neil told him about how he and his mother had briefly lived in Italy and how good the gelato was. Then he’d told him about something called a _tarte au sucre_ that he’d encountered while living in Montreal that Andrew was sure to like. Since then, Andrew had tricked him into getting food with him twice, which led to more stories about the places he’d lived.

They’d also gone to the movies—Andrew had picked a spy thriller to see Neil’s reaction—and Neil had the idea to go go-karting after Andrew’s disappointment that Neil’s mother wasn’t about to let a sixteen-year-old with a learner’s permit drive her car.

“You talk about him incessantly,” said Aaron, his face creased in the way it did when he was puzzling through a homework problem. “Do you have a crush on him?”

“No,” scoffed Andrew. “Ew. He’s the worst. I’m trying to get him to leave town or switch schools.”

Aaron’s brow cleared and he nodded his head. “Like I want to do with Katelyn. She smiles too much.”

“Neil, too.”

“I get angry every time she laughs.”

“I have to physically cover his face with my hands because his expressions are so aggravating.”

Nicky, who Andrew had forgotten was in the room with them, looked back and forth between the two of them. “Sweet summer children,” he said.

“What?” asked Aaron, immediately defensive.

“You’re both so…” he sighed and shook his head.

“I know,” said Bee mournfully from the doorway. She was holding a bowl of popcorn for them. “How did I fail so badly at getting them to admit they have feelings?”

**Step 7a: Set up interrogation**

Andrew tossed his pen at Neil midway through their English teacher’s lecture that he wasn’t paying any attention to. He could see that Neil was doodling pictures of the characters in the superhero movie that the two of them had seen last weekend (mostly because Andrew wanted to see it, but also a little to discern if Neil’s secret was that he was a masked vigilante). Neil didn’t turn to look at him right away, although his cheek moved in a way that indicated that he was smiling. After letting Andrew stew for a couple moments—he didn’t have anything else to throw; maybe he should be like the keener kids and keep multiple writing implements and erasers and Wite-Out on his desk so he’d have more ammunition—Neil slightly turned his head and slid his eyes in Andrew’s direction.

“We’re going out on Friday,” said Andrew. He didn’t want his teacher’s attention, so he mouthed the words instead of speaking aloud. It seemed Neil was not adept at lip reading, because he only shook his head in confusion. Andrew tried to mouth the words again, more slowly, but Neil still didn’t understand. He mimed that Andrew should write his message. Andrew glared and indicated that he no longer had a pen, causing Neil to roll his eyes, lean over to pick up the pen that had recently bounced off his left shoulder, and hand it back to Andrew.

Andrew wrote his message on a strip of paper, folded it into a small square, and tossed it into Neil’s hood. He watched in amusement as Neil squirmed around, trying not to garner too much attention while he fished the note out of his hoodie. Finally, he smoothed it out and glanced at it.

He wrote _WHERE?_ in capital letters on his own paper, and angled it back so Andrew could see it.

_Eden’s Twilight_, responded Andrew. It was an all-ages club that Aaron and Nicky and Kevin liked to visit for dancing and the frankly delicious mocktails. It was dark and loud and crowded—a perfect place for an interrogation. Andrew threw the note to Neil, this time deigning to throw the note on Neil’s desk so he wouldn’t have such a hard time getting it.

Neil shrugged easily in acceptance and went back to drawing.

“Am I boring you, Mr. Dobson?” asked the teacher suddenly.

“Yes,” answered Andrew reflexively.

There was a slight pause and several muffled giggles throughout the room.

The teacher raised an eyebrow. “Well, I’m sorry the subject matter isn’t entertaining enough for you,” he said sarcastically. “Perhaps if you paid attention—”

“You were discussing the themes of love and hate in Romeo and Juliet,” interrupted Andrew in a bored tone. “Another instance is in act 1, scene 5: My only love, sprung from my only hate!/Too early seen unknown, and known too late!/Prodigious birth of love it is to me/That I must love a loathed enemy.”

“Yes, good example,” said his teacher, annoyed and ruffled. “What are your thoughts on the similarities between love and hate that Shakespeare draws? How it is often hard to tell one from the other?”

“That’s stupid,” drawled Andrew. “Love and hate are very different emotions. Only an idiot can’t tell the difference between the two.”

**Step 7b: Gather supplies**

After school, Andrew tracked Neil down, having been reminded of something important by Nicky’s ceaseless prattle. He found him at his locker, haphazardly stuffing papers and books into his bag in a way that made Andrew shudder. He waited, hovering behind Neil’s open locker door and wondered if Neil would shriek like Nicky when he was startled.

Instead, Neil slammed his locker and turned to Andrew without surprise. “What’s up?” he asked.

Andrew couldn’t reign in his disappointment at the lack of reaction.

“Oh, don’t pout,” said Neil. “I saw your boots. No one else has such impractical boots. Can you even run in them?”

“Why would I need to run?” asked Andrew, looking appreciatively at his left boot. They were black and thick-soled and had an impressive number of laces. “They’re good for curb stomping.”

“You do a lot of curb stomping?”

Andrew didn’t appreciate his incredulity. He could curb stomp people if he wanted to.

“Yes, yes, you’re very fearsome,” said Neil, rolling his eyes. Andrew wasn’t entirely sure he was comfortable with Neil’s ability to discern what he hadn’t said out loud.

“Besides, they’re fashionable,” said Andrew, because that led to the reason he was here. “Which I know you know nothing about.” He gestured to indicate Neil’s usual hoodie-and-jeans-and-running-shoes outfit. He wondered about it, now that he knew what kind of money Neil’s mother had. Maybe Neil’s clothing was a disguise, making sure he didn’t have people leeching off of him like they sometimes did off Kevin until Andrew scared them away? But if it was a disguise, Neil was awfully committed to it, not having a single expensive piece of clothing in his entire wardrobe.

“Hey, these shoes weren’t cheap,” argued Neil.

“You can’t wear them at Eden’s,” said Andrew, finally getting to his point. “We’re going shopping.”

Neil stared. “Now?”

Andrew nodded once. “Now. My mom lent us her car to go to the mall because Nicky wants jeans and Aaron needs new shoes. You’d better come so I can make sure you don’t embarrass me on Friday.”

“Maybe I already own appropriate clothing,” said Neil mulishly.

“I’ve seen your entire wardrobe, remember?”

“When you were snooping?”

“It’s not snooping to glance at the clothing you had strewn across every available surface of your room.”

“Fine,” Neil sighed. “But nothing too expensive.”

Andrew rolled his eyes. “Your mother drives a Maserati. She can afford it.”

**Step 8: Interrogation**

Shopping had been surprisingly pleasant, especially Aaron’s confusion at Neil’s presence. Andrew had enjoyed himself, despite Neil being far more reticent at Andrew’s suggestions on how to dress than he’d been expecting. Still, he’d managed to coax him into buying dark clothing that actually fit him properly and flattered his build. Nicky had whistled appreciatively until Andrew had elbowed him in the stomach. Neil was his enemy, therefore he was their family’s enemy. Nicky should know better than to ogle him.

Everything was in place. Andrew made sure that the others knew not to bother him and Neil once they got to the club since all of Andrew’s hard work at playing good cop would be ruined if Neil refused to answer Andrew’s questions because the others were close by. He wished that he could get his hands on drugs or alcohol to help loosen Neil’s tongue, but he a) didn’t know where to even go about getting drugs, and b) didn’t have a fake ID to buy alcohol (plus, c) if Bee ever found out about it she’d give him the super disappointed look he spent a lot of effort avoiding). Also, even if he _did_ have a fake ID he doubted it would be convincing—the last time he’d been alone in a grocery store a woman had approached him to ask him if he was lost and if he needed help finding his parents. It was only because he hadn’t gotten his growth spurt yet. Any day now, he’d shoot up to six feet like Nicky and Kevin. In any case, he suspected that no one would believe that he was twenty-one.

Kevin was driving them to Eden’s—he had his full license and his own car, courtesy of his indulgent mother. Andrew called shotgun as soon as he arrived (Bee had teased him about being eager to see Neil, but he’d been waiting impatiently by the front window for seating purposes only). Nicky and Aaron both complained loudly, but Andrew made it clear to them that, “if you snooze, you lose.”

He started to give Kevin directions to Neil’s apartment, but Kevin interrupted to say he already knew where it was. At Andrew’s demanding stare, he explained that he’d been driving Neil to their weekend track meets for the last few months. Andrew stewed, annoyed that he hadn’t known about this breach. He definitely would have put a stop to the Neil-Kevin alone time if he had. Who knew what Neil could have achieved with so much access?

Andrew hopped out of the car when they got to Neil’s, telling the others to stay put. Neil was dangerous and he was the only one he trusted to handle him.

He got Neil’s doorman to buzz up to him and waited impatiently for Neil to appear. When he did, he was carrying a small bouquet of yellow flowers. Andrew eyed the flowers in consternation as Neil approached. As soon as he was within an arm’s length, he thrust them out.

“For you,” he said, flushing slightly.

Andrew took them gingerly and examined them. He almost asked Neil why, but it was very obvious. Neil had figured out about his planned interrogation and was sending him a message. If he recalled correctly, yellow lilies meant _false and gay_. Had he figured out Andrew’s sexuality and was threatening to reveal it? Did he know that Andrew’s fake overtures of friendship were nothing more than fact gathering?

He considered crushing the flowers, but he didn’t want to let Neil know that he’d successfully rattled him. Instead he held the bouquet carefully and put it safely in the glove compartment when they returned to the car so it wouldn’t get crushed.

“Are those flowers?” asked Nicky, delightedly.

Neil slid into the back seat beside him and studiously didn’t answer, as his blush spread from his cheeks to his ears. Nicky elbowed him jokingly. Andrew turned minutely to glare Nicky into silence.

“Ooookay,” said Nicky, raising his hands in surrender. “I guess we’re not talking about it.”

**Step 9: Compile evidence**

Andrew was contemplating his flowers—he had put them in a vase as soon as he got home last night—and thinking about what he’d learned.

“Those are pretty,” said Bee, wanding into the sitting room to water her plants. “I was wondering where they’d come from.”

“Neil gave them to me,” said Andrew. “He thinks I’m false and gay.”

Bee paused what she was doing. “He said that?”

“The _flowers_ say that,” said Andrew. “I’m trying to figure out what his game is.”

“Well, you took him out to interrogate him, didn’t you?” asked Bee. “What did you learn?”

“That his and Kevin’s moms know each other from college and that’s why Kevin latched onto him. Also, he has bad taste in drinks. He didn’t like the virgin daiquiris. He’s evil and dangerous.”

Bee sighed before speaking patiently, “I know you were worried about Neil coming between you and Kevin, but that hasn’t happened, has it? You see Kevin just as much as you used to.”

“Yeah, now that I’m distracting Neil. If I stop obstructing him, he’ll get his claws into Kevin.”

“Why would you stop?” asked Bee. “As far as I can tell you enjoy spending time with him. There’s no reason for anything to change.”

Andrew sat up straight. “Of course there’s a reason for everything to change. Neil isn’t staying. If Kevin gets attached to him, he’ll be sad when he goes. Neil has to leave now to stop that from happening.”

Bee’s expression was kind. “Are you sure it’s not already too late?”

“It’s not,” said Andrew stubbornly. “It’s time for him to get out of my life.”

**Step 10: Demand he leave forever**

Andrew was aware that telling Neil to leave would actually have little to no impact on anything important; he wasn’t going anywhere until his mother decided to and Andrew couldn’t control her actions. But he wanted to make Neil aware that he wasn’t to speak to Kevin anymore and that he was to stay away from them from now on. That way, when he eventually did leave, Kevin would barely remember the fleeting friendship they’d shared. Neil didn’t mean anything and would become an unimportant memory.

He ignored the unhappy cramping feeling in his stomach as he planned his confrontation with Neil to tell him he wasn’t wanted. He’d let himself get too attached to his undercover persona and had become too interested in his plan to get rid of Neil. He was going to miss it when he returned to his normal, monotonous everyday life. It wasn’t _Neil_ that he was going to miss, that would be absurd. Just the matching of wits against a worthy opponent.

Searching for Neil took him longer than he expected, as he didn’t seem to be in any of the usual places. Finally, he came across him in the back hall, only to freeze in shock. There was a girl talking to Neil, a girl who Andrew hated instantly with a vengeance. She was smiling at him, leaning forward and twirling her hair—hair that was dark and curly and looked an awful lot like very long pubic hair, Andrew thought uncharitably—around her fingers as she giggled. Neil was looking back at her, his expression confused, although he wasn’t pushing her out of his personal space as he should have been. She was probably one of the greedy gold-diggers that bothered Kevin all the time and Neil—who was supposed to be smarter than this; he was Andrew’s nemesis he couldn’t be a _moron_—apparently didn’t notice.

Neil looked up and caught sight of Andrew, his face creasing into a smile that faded almost instantly as he took note of Andrew’s unimpressed expression.

“Andrew,” said Neil, taking a step forward.

Andrew turned on his heel and stormed off. He would wait to give Neil his ultimatum when he wasn’t so _busy_.

“Wait,” called Neil, but Andrew ignored him. Of course, Andrew was wearing his boots and Neil was in running shoes so it didn’t take him long to catch up.

“Andrew, come on,” cajoled Neil.

Andrew ignored him.

“What’s wrong?” He reached out to grab Andrew’s arm.

Andrew shook him off. “Go back to your flirting,” he snapped.

“I wasn’t…” said Neil, sounding bewildered. “Andrew, of course I wasn’t flirting. I wouldn’t do that while I’m dating you.”

This brought Andrew up short. “You’re _what_?” he demanded, spinning back to face Neil.

Neil faltered. “I mean… aren’t we?” he asked, sounding completely lost and unsure.

“_No_,” spat Andrew. “We’re enemies! I was trying to figure out your secret so you’d be forced to switch schools or leave town or something!”

“That’s what _I_ said!” exploded Neil, throwing his hands up. “No one would believe me. ‘Oh, Neil, you’re so paranoid’, ‘That doesn’t make any sense, Neil’, ‘People don’t _do_ that, Neil’.” His tone was high and mocking. “They kept insisting that you were just bad at flirting and that you clearly wanted to date me.” He put his hands in his pockets petulantly.

“‘They’?” asked Andrew.

“Kevin, Matt, Dan,” said Neil, “Allison. You know, my friends.”

“You spoke about this with Kevin?” asked Andrew, feeling unaccountably ill. “And he thought I was trying to date you? And with Matt? He was there when I bought the bouquet to threaten you!”

Neil shrugged. “It was his idea to get you flowers for our date at Eden’s. But, then again, he thinks flowers are appropriate for all occasions.”

“He’s the one who called me false and gay?”

“He did what?”

“The yellow lilies?”

Neil shook his head, as if to dislodge cobwebs. “I just thought they were pretty.”

“Oh,” said Andrew, his mind churning. “You really thought we were dating?”

“You took the time to get to know me,” said Neil. “We went for ice cream. And to the movies. And go-karting. Allison pointed out that it was basically a movie dating montage.”

“I was… I was trying to find out your secrets so I could use them to blackmail you into leaving. I had a whole ten step plan.” Andrew felt wrong footed.

“And what did you find?” asked Neil, his expression unreadable.

“You’re really messy,” said Andrew. “But good at cooking. And you like exercise, which is just wrong on so many levels. And you should stop coming up with puns, they’re not funny.”

Neil took a step closer. “I learned that you’re funnier than anyone knows,” he said. “That you’re devoted to your friends and family. That you’re actually really good company, even when you’re grumpy. And that you don’t like admitting any weaknesses.”

“Who does?” said Andrew, crossing his arms.

“And I figured out you were spying on me. You’re not subtle.”

“Why did you let me, if you knew?”

Neil shrugged. “I was bored and being your enemy was fun.”

Andrew opened his mouth and then closed it again.

“What was the last step?” asked Neil, cocking his head.

“What?”

“The last step in your plan to run me out of town. What was it?”

“I was going to tell you to leave forever.”

Neil nodded. “Are you still going to?”

“Well, now you know about it; it’s ruined.”

“We could just continue being enemies,” Neil suggested.

“What if you leave?”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Andrew looked away. “You might. You said your mom might decide to move.”

“She won’t,” said Neil, taking another step closer. “She promised. And if she tries, I’ll fight her. I’m here for the next two and a half years. You’d better get used to me.”

“I hate you.”

For some reason that made Neil smile. “So,” he said, extending a hand in offering, “enemies?”

Andrew huffed, but shook on it. “Enemies,” he agreed with a nod.

**Step +1: Success!**

“Mom!” called Andrew, slamming into the house, dragging Neil behind him. The dragging was necessary because Neil was strangely reluctant to meet Bee. It wasn’t at all because Andrew liked the way his hand felt when it was clasped in his own.

“You bellowed?” asked Bee in amusement, coming down the stairs to greet him.

“This is Neil,” said Andrew, holding up their joined hands. “My mortal enemy.”

“I see that,” smiled Bee, before turning to Neil, “Hello, Neil, it’s very nice to meet you. I’ve heard all about you.”

“Yeah—” Neil started to say, but Andrew pulled him away.

“Boring,” he said.

“Don’t be rude,” chided Bee.

“We’re going to my room to study,” said Andrew.

“Uh huh,” said Bee, raising an eyebrow. “Make sure you keep the door open while you’re ‘studying’.” Ugh, she was so mortifying. She even made air quotations.

“Mom,” grumbled Andrew, feeling his face heat. How did she know that Neil had nonchalantly mentioned that practicing kissing was something that all nemeses did? Andrew was going to take him up on the offer, of course; what else were enemies for?

**Author's Note:**

> I can be found on tumblr [@gluupor](http://gluupor.tumblr.com).


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